


99 Cent Burritos

by querulousArtisan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fast FoodStuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/querulousArtisan/pseuds/querulousArtisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave certainly has unconventional ways of hitting on the skinny troll boy working at the local Taco Bell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	99 Cent Burritos

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by HamletSpamlet on Tumblr. He asked:
> 
> Sollux is working at a fast food place and Dave keeps going through the drive thru to talk to him. 8)

You hate this job.

You hate this job more than anything.

You hate this job more than dying, and you've done your fair share of it.

Nothing is worse than customers. Customers are mean, that's for sure. Worse when they're hungry.

Here you are, working the worst of the worst when it comes to jobs. Hungry customers and disgustion so-called-food that you're stuck working all day, until you go home smelling of burnt burgers and feeling like an uncleaned deep fryer for weeks. It leaves you exhausted and hating the world.

You wouldn't have taken this job if it weren't for the fact that you had to pay for school. Of course you had had to have ambitions. Geeky ambitions, but ambitions nonetheless. And these ambitions cost money. So you suffer. It's a worthy cause, after all.

You adjust your headset, making sure you can try and make out from that hazy static from it so you could try and punch in their orders into the cash register. You hear that ding, letting you know someone had pulled up.

“Hello. Welcome to Taco Bell. Can I take your order?” or maybe not, because you're sure whoever at the other end doesn't want to eat this toxic waste.

“Hey again, troll-bro.”

You're pretty sure you might want to experience dying again. Maybe.

Honestly, you're not so sure. The first time this insufferable prick showed up, you were certain that that was what you wanted. Maybe spit in his food at the very least, if it weren't for the fact that you prided yourself on being a bit better than your other coworkers.

After the last week, though, this insufferable prick has been the one customer that you've been able to tolerate.

You still can't help but to roll your eyes at the greeting. It's like he's figured out your shifts and made it his mission, every day, to pull through that lane just to talk to you.

Maybe that is just you being a little hopeful.

What on earth are you thinking? You weren't hopeful for his sorry ass.

“Let me gueth,” you start off. “Five ninty-nine thent burritoth and a mango-strawberry fruitithta.” you can hear the chuckles from your co-workers. Some murmurs. They know who it is.

There is a bit of laughter on the other end.

“Damn, you're beginning to know me.” he teases. “But not quite.”

Wonderful. Now was the day that this guy was going to be a pain in your ass.

“So, how about that phone number.”

Oh. This again.

“I'm thorry, but phone numberth aren't on the menu. Pleathe pull around to the thecond window. Your total ith eight dollarth and thirty two thentth.”

You don't have his order punched in. You've just gotten good at memorizing the number. You punch it in as you roll around, opening the window to take cash, finding yourself mildly surprised when plastic is placed into your hand. You look at the blond kid with the shades, and he just smirks back at you.

You don't think nothing of it as you go to swipe that card, but momentary curiosity gets to you. You look at the card.

The card of one Dave Strider.

You look at him again, and he's still smirking. He knew you were going to look.

You give a huff of laughter. You couldn't believe it. This cool kid was going great length just to hit on you.

You finalize the payment, wait for the receipt to print, and you're about to hand it to Dave when you stop. You grab the pen and scribble something down really quick, watching as a coworking finishes bagging that order. You shove the receipt in the bag. You stride back to that window, grin on your face.

“Here'th your toxic wathte.” you say in a low enough voice so that only he can hear, an exchange you reserve only for him. You hand him his bag and card. “Have a nithe day.”

You don't shut the window right away, knowing that he is going to dig in that bag to make sure everything is there.

You here him pause, though. You can almost feel his eyes go wide.

“Oh, holy shit.” he says with surprise. “Hey! When can I call~”

You can only laugh as you shut that window to take the next order.

After all, if he took the time to figure out your schedule, he can figure out when to call you.


End file.
